


Our Baby's Going to College

by queercapwriting (queergirlwriting)



Series: Where's Your Head At? [18]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: F/F, Hell, everyone's gonna cry, no one will cry, their daughter - Freeform, their little baby is going off to college, those are lies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 04:09:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18402812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queergirlwriting/pseuds/queercapwriting
Summary: teamhousestark asked:Prompt: Carol & Maria when Monica is a teen/young adult, maybe end of high school or heading to college?





	Our Baby's Going to College

It’s late Sunday morning, and thank the stars Monica has developed the very teenage habit of sleeping way, way in.

Because Carol is reveling in Maria’s body, in the way the entire planet feels different, feels quieter, with Maria in her arms, skin still flushed with lazy Sunday morning sex, lips still swollen with hours of showing Maria exactly how much she misses her when she’s away.

“Where’s your head at?” she asks Maria this time, because they might all be taking their time getting out of bed, but today is still the big day.

It takes Maria a long moment to answer, but Carol doesn’t mind. She makes her lips at home along the hollow of Maria’s throat, pressing kisses everywhere she has the angle to reach, her tongue occasionally flicking out to help.

Maria’s hand tangles in Carol’s hair absently, lazily, keeping her exactly where she is. Familiar and intimate. Comfortable.

“Our babygirl’s growing up,” she says eventually, and somehow, even after all these years, Carol revels in Monica being theirs.

“You know you did a brilliant job with her,” Carol kisses her way down Maria’s neck, slow and thoughtful, tracing down to her collarbones and lower, lower.

“We did a brilliant job with her.”

“Mmm,” Carol hums against Maria’s chest, because she knows better than to argue. But when she looks up to lock eyes with her, she wants to make sure she hears her. 

“Yeah. And all that time I couldn’t be here? You did a brilliant job.”

She puts every ounce of meaning she has into her voice, into her eyes, her hands warming slightly at the statement. 

Because she’s saving literally billions of people, galaxies over, all these years.

And she only has one regret.

She’s missed her family.

Not that she wasn’t there as often as she could be. Because gods, she was. 

And yet. 

As often as she could be would never be enough. And Maria really had done a gorgeous job.

What an example she’d set for her daughter. Their daughter.

Maria stares down at Carol, as though wondering whether to argue, to resist or push back. But Carol dips her head to take Maria’s nipple into her mouth - slow and intimate, turning them both on soft and warm but not urgent and needy, not right now - and Maria decides that really, the universe doesn’t need more arguing.

“Moms?” a familiar voice rings out from the hallway, because she’s long-since dropped the ‘Auntie Carol’ that had come along with her moms being in the military when no one would outwardly recognize that they were her moms.

“Getting dressed!” Carol recovered first, and Monica groaned a familiar groan.

“I didn’t need that detail, you know.” Maria and Carol chuckled as they kissed their way out of bed, tossing each other their clothes in a routine practiced and perfected over years and years. “Like, normal parents would have just told me that they’d be out in a minute -”

“And have you ever had or wanted normal parents, Lieutenant Trouble?” Carol opened the door with a smile and tousled hair, and Monica rolled her eyes and pushed past her so she could collapse onto their king-sized bed.

“No,” she muttered into their sheets, and Maria and Carol made a silent agreement not to remind her what they’d just been up to on them.

Because their babygirl was going to college today. One more family-sized snuggle in the bed Monica used to run to when she’d had a nightmare, when she’d been sad, when she’d had a bellyache, was more than welcome.

Maria settled in on Monica’s left side, and Carol, on her right.

“Sandwich?” Maria asked, and Monica nodded almost sullenly as she adjusted her scarf before snuggling solidly between both of her parents.

“You know,” Carol was the first to speak, because silence was never really her thing anyway, “when your mom first told me she was pregnant with you, I couldn’t believe we were going to have a baby. You know? But I was so excited for your mom. For us. And mostly, for who you were gonna be.”

“Yeah?” Monica asked, even though Carol had told her that countless times over the years.

“She cried,” Maria added, smiling, and Monica turned to fully face Carol, the new detail making her break out into a broad grin. 

“No, you didn’t.”

“Wow, way to send our daughter off to college with an image of her mom as cool and collected,” Carol teased.

Monica’s face sobered. “I think you really want to consider what an example you’re setting for me, Ma, with your implication that crying isn’t something badasses do.”

Carol scoffed, Monica smirked, and Maria gave her a big thumbs-up.

“Crying is definitely something badasses do,” Carol kissed Monica’s forehead. “And I definitely cried when I found out we were going to get you in our lives.”

“You’re not mad? That I’m going to school so far away?”

“Monica,” Maria sat up slightly so her daughter could see both her and Carol without turning. She took her face into her hands and tears started springing in all their eyes. “Your mom and I are never going to be angry at you for doing what you need to do for yourself. Ever. You hear me? Do you hear me?”

Monica bit her lip and nodded, reaching up to wrap her arms around Maria’s neck, like she did when she was so much younger.

Maria shifted to hold her, and Carol held both of them.

She cried as they did, but something about it felt cathartic. Like goodbye but also like, ‘when I see you again, I’ll have even more love and life to share with you.’

Something like family. Which Carol never had until she had these two.

And she hoped Monica would always take that with her.

Anywhere and everywhere.

Higher, further, faster.


End file.
